


The Princess Kills the Pauper

by johnny cade (johnnycake)



Series: Switchblades and Leather [33]
Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: CSA, Gen, Rape, heavily implied rape, so pls be careful, trans!johnny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 02:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15742395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnycake/pseuds/johnny%20cade
Summary: When everyone leaves the barn that night, Sylvia takes Johnny back. He just wants to go home.





	The Princess Kills the Pauper

**Author's Note:**

> welp....this sure was something else to write as a survivor myself. i hope everyone who reads this likes it....as much as you can like something like this anyway.

The night was dark and actually quite cold as Johnny headed back from the barn on the outskirts of town, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes squinted against the wind. He brought his hands out every so often to blow warm air into them, but it didn’t last long and his hands were cold again the minute he stuck them back into the pockets of his denim jacket. He tried walking more quickly. He even tried running a little, but it seemed no matter what he did that the night was still cold and he couldn’t get warm.

A pair of headlights swung around the bend behind him and for a moment, he froze, then walked faster, hoping that some way some how he could outrun the car behind him. When the car slowed as it pulled up to him, his heart beat faster and his eyes darted around, trying to find someplace to hide in the bushes nearby, but there was nothing. His hands shook in his pockets, even when he clenched them into fists and he took a shuddering breath, preparing for the car to stop and the Socs he knew so well at this point to jump out and attack him.

But the car didn’t stop. It just cruised alongside him and when he turned to see who the driver was, he recognized Sylvia, Dally’s girlfriend – or exgirlfriend, depending on the day and both of their moods – in the driver’s seat. When she saw him looking at her, she grinned. “Hey Johnnycake,” she said, the too familiar way she said the nickname made him cringe inwardly. “Wanna lift?”

Warning bells went off in his head immediately. He knew that Sylvia wasn’t asking if he wanted a ride from the goodness of her heart – if she even had one – but the alternative was walking home in the cold. The Socs were out on the prowl on a Friday night, no doubt, and the odds of him getting jumped by them yet again were much higher than they might’ve been otherwise.

 _It won’t be that long of a drive,_ he thought, trying to talk himself into it. _And then you won’t have to see her again. It’ll be fine._

But he even as he got into the car, slamming the passenger door closed behind him, something screamed at him to not do exactly that, to get out again before she started driving faster, to run away from her, to just take the risk and walk home alone. If he saw Socs he could jump into the bushes and hide until they went away.

He was putting his hand on the door, prepared to climb back out, even though the car was still moving, but Sylvia must have sensed what he was going to do and chose that moment to speed up, going so fast that he knew if he tried to jump out of the car now he’d end up hurt as bad as the Socs would hurt him if they got to him. He clung to the door handle as he was thrown back in his seat. She turned a sharp corner and didn’t even bother stopping at the stop sign there before speeding on.

“Did you have fun tonight?” she asked as they drove, her eyes leaving the road to look at him.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and nodded, but didn’t reply.

“ _I_ did,” she said as though he’d spoken. “I always have fun at the barn. One of the few places I can do what I want.” She grinned at him and her grin made him cringe inwardly. There was something predatory about it, something dangerous, something that told him now more than ever to fling himself from the car and take his chances with the Socs.

And yet, for some reason he didn’t. He sat, frozen in place, unable to move.

He felt like he did before his father started abusing him: unable to do anything except let it happen. It was then his heartbeat started to quicken as he realized Sylvia wasn’t taking him home. She was taking him back to the barn. And he was letting her. He tried to force his hand to move, to open the door, but it was like he’d become a statue. And a deep horror dawned on him as he realized there was nothing he could do to stop whatever was coming.

The car stopped and Johnny heard Sylvia speak as if from far away: “C’mon. Let’s go inside.”

It was as if some sort of puppeteer controlled him. He felt himself open the door and stand up. He watched as Sylvia walked towards the barn as if in slow motion, turning around and giving him that same dangerous, Cheshire cat grin as she held the side door of the barn open for him and he walked inside. The lights were still on and there was a fresh six pack of hard cider, sitting on the foldout table that Soda and Steve had brought there at some point for the exact reason it was being used.

Sylvia practically skipped over to the foldout table and opened the cider. She grabbed a bottle opener off the table, cracked open the bottle she was holding, and held it out to Johnny, still grinning. “Want one of the ciders?” she asked in a voice that sounded far too innocent. “It’ll calm your nerves.”

The puppeteer was still controlling him and Johnny reached out stiffly taking the cider. He held it for several long moments before bringing it to his lips and taking a drink. A long drink. He drank half of the bottle in one go.

 _If you’re drunk, it won’t be that bad,_ a voice whispered in his mind.

He didn’t know what exactly the voice was talking about. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. But he listened to it, finishing off the bottle and slamming it down onto the foldout table a little harder than he meant to. When he looked up, Sylvia was already handing him a second bottle and he took it, drinking it just as quickly, already feeling a strong buzz, his head reeling.

“Can we go home now?” he heard himself ask, still as if from far away.

“Sure,” Sylvia said surprising him, but something about her voice told him she didn’t mean what she was saying and in the next moment she added, “I wanna show you somethin’ up in the loft first, okay?” She handed him a third bottle of cider as he finished his second and even as he took it he knew he shouldn’t, knew he should run out now, but he wasn’t in control. The puppeteer still controlled him, still was making him walk, making him speak, making him move.

 _Don’t follow her,_ a small voice in his mind whispered. _Leave. Leave. Leave._

“I have to go,” he said against the will of the puppeteer that had to be controlling him.

Sylvia was still grinning and her grin didn’t falter as she grabbed his upper arm, steering him towards the stairs that led to the hay-filled loft of the barn. “C’mon, Johnnycake,” she said, her voice upbeat, her smile looking more like a leer. “Don’t you wanna see what I got for you in the loft?”

 _No!_ He screamed in his mind.

He shook his head, but he seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

His head spun in circles and he staggered to one side. Sylvia caught him and guided him up the stairs. He watched the world tilt back and forth and when they reached the top of the loft, he stared at the long expanse of hay that looked a mile long.

“What d’you wanna show me?” he heard himself ask stupidly, cursing himself the moment he opened his mouth. He turned around, willing himself to push past Sylvia, run down the stairs and out of the barn, but he never got the chance.

Sylvia pushed him and he fell to the hay. She stood over him, still leering.

The world spun around in a violent circle and went black.

* * *

Johnny started awake and instantly realized he itched all over as though he were covered in small twigs. The second thing he realized was he was lying on his stomach and the scent of hay filled his nose as he took a breath, cuing him in to why he itched so bad. However, as he pushed himself up, looking around, he realized one last horrifying thing.

He was completely naked.

Immediately, he flipped himself over, searching for his clothes, finding them in a small pile not too far away, he grabbed them covering himself with them as he tried to remember the night before...and realized with dawning horror he couldn’t remember a thing.

At least, not a thing after Sylvia had pushed him down into the hay.

Everything after that was one big, dark, black hole of nothing.

But he was alone in the barn. Naked. On his back. And everything between his legs hurt.

He shuddered and let out a soft, pained, whimpering moan.

He knew what had happened.

It took him a long time to get dressed, his hands shaking violently as he struggled to pull on his underwear, then his pants, then his shirt, and finally his denim jacket. He brushed the hay off his clothes and out of his hair, his hand shaking so badly they looked like he’d set them on something that vibrated and left them there until his muscles absorbed the vibration and couldn’t figure out how to make it stop again.

He stood slowly and almost collapsed again as a wave of nausea rushed through him, remembering again the night before. And then he did collapse, catching himself, his arms shaking as badly as his hands were as he gasped, staring at the hay, now blurring into a sea of gold.

 _It’s my fault, all my fault,_ he thought, let out panting gasps, struggling to keep himself from stopping breathing completely. _I knew something was wrong and I still followed her. I still let her give me_ _hard cider_ _. I still let her bring me up here. It’s my fault, my fault, my fault._

A sick voice in the back of his mind whispered, _And what if you liked it? You don’t remember anything after she pushed you down. Even if you protested at first, what if you liked it? You don’t remember. You don’t know. Maybe you liked it. That makes it all your fault._

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands curling into fists, catching the hay in his fingers as he grimaced and shuddered again, letting out another whimpering moan. He started screaming and throwing the hay every which way, watching a cloud of gold fly up around him in a blur. When he finally stopped throwing the hay, he was pressed up against the wall of the barn, his hands in his hair, pulling it as he moaned and held himself, trying not to scream some more and ruin his voice box, not even sure if he could with how bad his throat hurt now.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, pressed up against the side of the barn, pulling at his hair, whimpering and begging whoever was listening to make this all end, make it all stop, change it, turn back time so he could make himself leave and make sure none of this ever happened. It felt like hours, days, months, years. But finally, he made himself stand, his legs now shaking as much as the rest of him and, one hand pressed against the wall to keep himself from falling, made his way down the steps of the loft to the barn below.

Later, he would never be sure how he managed to get out of the barn and walk the miles from the barn to his neighborhood. He didn’t even remember walking there and when he finally got to the Curtis’s house and knocked, he was sure he looked like hell.

Darry was the one who answered and, though he had a smile on his face, it vanished the minute he saw him. “Johnny,” he said, his voice soft and concerned. “You okay?”

Johnny tried to smile, but his mouth wasn’t working right and, not looking at Darry, he nodded instead. “Just hungover,” he mumbled, though he hadn’t had a thing to drink. At least not when Soda and Steve and everyone else had been at the barn that night. He finally looked at Darry and asked in a small voice, “Can I sleep on your couch?”

Darry nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

Johnny collapsed again, this time on the couch. He was still shaking, still holding himself, still looking like hell warmed over, but he didn’t know what to say or do. He didn’t know if anyone would even believe him about what had happened. After all, how could a girl do to someone without a dick exactly what she’d done.

Even he didn’t know. He still couldn’t remember it.

Besides, what if the guys made fun of him? Or worse, what if they told him he was lucky?

He closed his eyes tight and pressed his lips together. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand it.

He pretended to be asleep on the couch when everyone else came in. He pretended not to hear them talking about the night before and how much fun they’d had as they all cracked beers in the kitchen and passed them around.

Johnny wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to drink hard cider again.

**Author's Note:**

> i was going to wait to write this, but i mentioned this happened in red hands and white sheets, so i felt it prudent to post it now instead of later so that people could see what the heck i'm talkin about in that fic.


End file.
